


who does it affect but the effected

by sweetiedarling



Series: Dark!Klaus [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark!Klaus, Gen, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Murder, Vendettas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 01:29:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21401923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiedarling/pseuds/sweetiedarling
Summary: He didn't mean to kill his father, it just sort of... happened. Honestly, he was just looking for stuff to pawn for his next high and ended up holding a pillow to ol' Reggie's face. Still, who really cares in the long run? The man was an abusive piece of crap.OrHow the siblings prevent the apocalypse because a few things change, including the murder of their father, courtesy of his own Séance.
Series: Dark!Klaus [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542901
Comments: 4
Kudos: 175





	who does it affect but the effected

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for dark klaus killing reggie ngl and I'm sad there aren't more fics like this

_We have been banded together under pack codes and tribal laws._

_\- Rose Macaulay_

Returning to the Academy in the dead of night, searching for valuable items to pawn only to end up killing his father wasn't in his to do list yet it had happened anyway. It had happened and Ben had shouted at him to stop because this wasn't him, but how did he know? How did he know what Klaus was feeling? What he wanted and who he was?

Truth was, he didn't. 

So Klaus had decided, in the heat of the moment, trinkets shoved deep into his small bag, to head down the hall to where the root of his nightmares slept. Then, he'd crept into the room and smothered the old man with his own plump pillows. Reggie only struggled for a moment before he either realised it was a lost cause or his muscles gave out at the effort it took to try and push Klaus away from him.

When the old man drew his last breath and Ben had long since fallen silent, Klaus removed the pillow with satisfaction and placed it back, making sure to leave no evidence of his deed. It wouldn't do to be cut out of the will at the last second when someone- probably Pogo- figured out what he'd done.

Shouldering his bag filled with valuables, Klaus had left the house that night with the knowledge that he would be returning fairly soon for a funeral he would fake caring about.

...

True to his word, Klaus found himself returning to the Academy a few days later after 'finding out' about ol' Reggie's death on a television in the back of an ambulance. He'd overdosed for what felt like the hundredth time and had probably been found by some poor woman walking her dyed dog. He'd woken up in the ambulance, high fived his favourite paramedic, Charlie, and then glanced at the television at the sound of his father's name. It was reporting the death of eccentric billionaire Reginald Hargreeves.

Klaus couldn't help but laugh, to the concern of Charlie who thought there was something wrong with him and tried to place the oxygen back over his mouth. Ben sat beside Charlie, his hood up, covering his eyes, but nothing could hide his disappointed frown.

The next day, after making his way back across the city from the hospital to where the Academy resided, Klaus found he was the first one to arrive so he headed straight upstairs to Reginald's office and began ransacking it for anymore valauables. After all, he'd already pawned all the others he'd stolen and needed some more money to feed his very expensive habit.

It was as he was shoving a quite fancy black box into the waistband of his leather pants, hidden under his faux fur coat, that someone said his name. He startled like a cat caught doing something it shouldn't be, and his his head on the underside of Reginald's desk.

The voice registered a second too late within his head and he peered out from behind the desk to see Allison in all her famous glory. She looked beautiful as usual, he mused as he grinned and scrambled up to approach her.

"Allison!" Klaus exclaimed happily and brought her in for a hug, to which she hesitantly returned. "Long time no see."

Allison pulled away, but Klaus kept hold of her hands as he grinned at her. 

"Hey, I was hoping to see you, actually," he told her, "because I wanted to get your autograph. Add it to my collection!"

At this, he put his hands beneath his chin, going for a cutesy expression that would convince her. She merely smiled and rolled her eyes at his antics. Then she took hold of his wrist and looked at it. Specifically, the band around it.

"You just out of rehab?" She asked.

"No," Klaus shook his head.

"Liar," Ben muttered from where he sat on the edge of Reginald's desk. It was the first word he'd spoken to Klaus since they last visited the Academy a few days ago, but Klaus ignored him in favour of talking to Allison.

"No, I'm done with all that crap," he told her, but she looked unconvinced, "I just came down here to prove to myself that the old man's really gone. And he is. He's dead! Yay!"

Allison looked away with a barely contained smile, and Klaus flopped down into Reginald's leather desk chair, spinning it a little as he took a second to really look at the room.

"You know how I know? Because if he were alive, not one of us would be allowed to step foot in this room."

Klaus leaned back and put his feet up on the desk, crossing them at the ankles. Allison stared pointedly at them for a moment before curiously taking some letter off the desk and taking a look at it.

"He was always in here out whole childhood, plotting his next torment, right?" Klaus chuckled humourlessly and Ben tensed from where he sat, almost turning around to look at him before seemingly deciding better against it.

"Remember how he used to look at us? That scowl?" He pointed up at the portrait of Reginald hung above the fireplace behind the desk. "Thank Christ he's not our real father, so we couldn't inherit those cold, dead eyes."

Klaus used his thumbs and fingers to widen his eyes as he peered at Allison.

"Ah, Number Three!" He said in an annoyingly high pitched voice that sounded nothing like Reginald, but served to make Allison laugh nonetheless.

"Get out of his chair," someone interrupted him before he could continue.

Klaus' heart skipped a beat, panic overtakig him and he turned to the doorway to see... a big hulk of man. His mouth fell agape for a split second before he recovered, calmed his nerves, knowing there was no way any of them could know what he'd done, and stood up to approach his brother.

"Wow, Luther, you've, uh, really filled out over the years," Klaus noted as Luther entered the room even further.

"Klaus," Luther began.

"Ah, save the lecture," Klaus cut in, "I was already leaving. You guys can talk amongst yourselves."

Chuckling, he scooted around the desk and began to leave the office. Just as he was stepping past Luther, who was apparently much larger up close, his brother's arm shot out and stopped him from leaving. He looked down at the hand on his chest, heart pounding. He hoped Luther couldn't feel it through that thick flesh of his.

Looking up, he spotted his brother's unimpressed face. 

"Drop it," Luther ordered.

"Ex-squeeze me?" He asked with mock offense.

"Empty your pockets."

Klaus scoffed and turned around to look at Allison. She was leaning casually against the fireplace with a smirk.

"All right! Fine!" He snatched his arm away from Luther and stalked back over to the desk. He turned back to his brother and made a point of removing everything from his pockets unhappily. "It's just an advance on our inheritance!"

He dropped the last few items on the floor, including the box from his waistband, much to his siblings' surprise, with a clang and then, with annoyance, began his journey back out of the office, this time without Luther stopping him.

As soon as he left the room and had slammed the door behind him to make sure they knew he was unhappy, he kicked the nearest chair then bit back a curse at the pain in his toe.

...

An hour later, he and the rest of his siblings found themselves sitting silently in the lounge. Allison had a glass of whiskey that she was sipping periodically whilst Diego was glaring at the fire burning in the fireplace. Vanya was staring into space to avoid meeting the others eyes and Luther was doing his best to catch anyone's attention. Klaus was making a drink at the bar, dancing around as he poured whatever he could find into an expensive glass. Ben was stood just over Diego's shoulder, his hood still up as he sulked.

With his drink finally made, Klaus began dancing back over to his siblings. Luther apparently took this as his cue because he stood up hesitantly, looking uncomfortable back in the role or leader.

"Uh, so, I guess we should get this started," he started, "so, I figured we ahould have a sort of memorial servive in the courtyard at sundown. Say a few words, just at dad's favourite spot."

"Dad had a favourite spot?" Allison asked skeptically whilst Klaus snorted.

Of course Reggie had a favourite spot and Luther knew about it. What a perfect example of the favouritism Luther experienced whilst the others were left with the scraps. Well, they barely even got that. In Klaus' experience, anyway. And probably Ben's judging by the way his frown had deepened.

"Yeah, you know, under the oak tree," Luther said as if it should be obvious. "We used to sit out there all the time. None of you ever did it?"

"Will there be refreshments?" Klaus interrupted before Luther could go on another one of his famous tirades about how he was Number One and rubbed into everyone's face how dad clearly favoured him. "Tea? Scones? Cucumber sandwiches are always a winner."

"What? No. And put that out, dad didn't allow smoking in here," Luther frowned at Klaus' burning cigarette.

"Is that my skirt?" Allison demanded.

Klaus looked up in surprise then down at the skirt he was wearing.

"Oh, yeah, this. I found it in your room. It's a little dated, I know, but it's very breathy on the bits," he grinned and gestured to the black leather skirt.

"Listen up," Luther said impatiently, "there're still some important things that we need to discuss, all right?"

Sighing, looked into the depths of his drink, absently smoking his cigarette.

"Like what?" Diego asked just as impatiently.

"Like the way he died," Luther stated.

Diego chuckled. Allison rolled her eyes. Vanya furrowed her brows. Klaus... well, his heart might have just stopped in his chest. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ben finally look up at him from beneath his hood. Klaus' throat suddenly felt like a desert, so he brought his glass up to his lips and downed half of it.

"Here we go," Diego smirked, as if he had seen it coming from a mile away.

"I don't understand," Vanya said, "I thought they said it was natural causes."

"Yeah, according to the coroner," Luther said with mistrust.

"Well, wouldn't they know?" Vanya pressed.

"Theoretically."

"'Theoretically'?" Allison repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"Look," Luther sighed, "I'm just saying, at the very least, something happened. The last time I talked to dad, he sounded strange." 

“’Strange’ how?” Allison asked.

“He sounded on edge. Told me I should be careful who to trust,” Luther reported.

Apparently, Diego had heard enough because he stood up with a sigh and faced Luther. The pair had never gotten along, always fighting over who should rightfully be Number One. There wasn’t a day that went by where the duo didn’t get into a fight. They even fought the day that Five disappeared and the day Ben died. Both fights began with Diego blaming the loss of his brothers on Luther.

“Luther, he was a paranoid, bitter old man who was starting to lose what was left of his marbles,” Diego told Luther, and Klaus allowed himself a second to breathe in relief. Looking down, he noticed that he was shaking. He dumped his half-smoked cigarette into his drink and placed it on the side.

“No, he must’ve known something was going to happen,” Luther told Diego, then turned to Klaus, “look, I know you don’t like to do it, but I need you to talk to dad.”

Klaus briefly shared a look with Ben as Allison scoffed in the background and sipped her drink.

“Klaus?” Diego brought his attention to him. “You okay, man? You look a little pale.”

“Me?” Klaus asked, voice high pitched and fearful. He coughed to sort his voice out, for once not wanting to draw more attention to himself than he apparently had judging by his siblings’ looks. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just feeling a little under the weather.”

“Well, can you do it?” Luther pressed, and Klaus looked towards him, anger flashing briefly though him before he calmed himself.

“I can’t just call dad I’m the afterlife and be like, ‘dad, could you quit playing tennis with Hitler and take a quick call?’” Klaus stated.

“Why? I thought that was your thing,” Luther rose an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well I’m not in the right state of mind,” Klaus defended himself, and really, that was putting it lightly. He was currently high as a kite, whatever drugs he’d taken up in Reginald’s office coursing through his body and working to get rid of the ghosts. Except Ben, of course.

“You mean you’re high?” Allison asked confidently.

“Yeah!” Klaus laughed. “Yeah, I mean, how are you not, listening to this nonsense?”

“Well, sober up, this is important!” Luther demanded, and if Klaus had a dollar for every time one of his brothers told him that, he’d be as rich as Allison.

He sighed and leaned back against the couch, putting his right arm over the back of it, mindful of hitting Vanya on the head with the way he’d slung it around.

“Then, there’s the issue of the missing monocle,” Luther continued, clearly under the impression that the others gave a shit anymore.

“Who gives a shit bout a stupid monocle?” Diego asked what everyone else was thinking.

“Exactly,” Luther stated, “it’s worthless, so whoever took it, this was personal. Someone close to him. Someone with a grudge.”

“What are you saying?” Vanya asked, though it was clear she already knew.

“Isn’t it obvious, Vanya?” Diego asked, turning to face Luther fully. “He thinks one of us killed dad.”

There was silence all around as everyone stared at Luther in varying degrees of disbelief and betrayal despite none of them having seen or spoken to each other since they were teens. Luther looked uncomfortable under all the attention, opting to actively avoid Diego’s piercing gaze.

Klaus was sure the others could hear his own heavy, ragged breathing under the suffocating silence, yet none of them seemed to be paying attention to him, all of them too focused on Luther, for which he was grateful. He was the first to look away from Number One with a gulp he hoped no one heard, feeling as if his brother was staring at him even though he was looking right over Klaus’ head at whatever object was the focus of his attention.

Finally, Vanya broke the loud silence with disbelief.

“How could you think that?” She asked.

“Great job, Luther,” Diego said lowly, “way to lead.”

With that, Diego stepped around Luther and began to exit the room. Thankful someone else had made the first move, Klaus hurriedly got up from the couch and followed his brother.

“You’re crazy, man,” he called on the way out, finding it easier to deflect the murder accusations when not looking into Luther’s eyes. “Crazy!”

“I’ve not finished!” Luther started.

“Okay, well, sorry, I’m just going to go murder mom, I’ll be right back,” Klaus interrupted him.

“That’s not funny, asshole,” Ben told him, following him and Diego out of the room.

Klaus shrugged, knowing he was right. He would never murder Mom. She’d never done anything wrong to him or the others in her life; only what Reggie had programmed her to do.

“That’s not what I was saying,” he heard Luther try as he reached the foyer and turned to head for the kitchen.

…

It was half an hour later when Klaus was suitably filled with goodies Mom had baked up that morning prior, that he found himself back in the lounge. This time, he was alone. His siblings had all left to go do whatever they were doing. Allison and Luther were probably being weird again and Diego was presumably off with Mom, being a stuck-up as per usual.

Reginald’s ashes sat in an urn on the bar along with a picture of the man himself. Klaus glared at the picture and the ashes, the same coldness he’d felt a few days ago returning and sitting heavily in his gut, like a boulder.

“Listen up, old man,” Klaus spoke to the urn, making sure to keep his voice quiet enough that his siblings wouldn’t hear him in the enormous house, yet loud enough that he was bordering on shouting, “look, I have a reputation to keep and I don’t need you ruining it for me.”

“What reputation?” Ben muttered from behind him.

Klaus breathed out an annoyed breath.

“You know, I’m trying to make a speech here, Ben, and I don’t need you putting me off,” Klaus snapped then swiped a hand over his face with regret. “Sorry.”

Ben shrugged, used to it, and continued staring at the floor. Or his shoes, whatever.

“Anyway,” Klaus turned back to the urn and continued glaring at it, “I have a reputation and I don’t need you ruining it. So, I just need you to kindly manifest yourself and let the others know that you _weren’t _murdered by your beloved Séance. That way, Luther can stop accusing us all, we can get on with your stupid memorial, and then go back to our shitty lives. Capiche? Comprende? Good. So, hurry up.”

He held his hands out in front of himself, wiggling his fingers, waiting for Reginald to manifest. He didn’t feel anything other than the familiar, soothing buzz from his current high. Sighing, he moved to lean against the back of the couch with Ben, continuing to wait.

He waited for another ten more minutes before he got frustrated. He pushed off the couch angrily and stormed over to the urn, Ben’s warning voice reaching his ears just as he stopped in front of it.

“You know,” he started off lowly, “you always were a stubborn bastard! Come on! Chop-chop! Manifest already!”

He shouted the last part, his patience wavering. Then he ran a hand over his face and eyed the drinks.

“I don’t know about you, but I need a drink,” he stated more to himself than his father or Ben.

He tried to reach past the urn, but in the process, he managed to knock it over. The lid popped off and fell onto the floor, and the ashes came spilling out, coating the bar. Klaus gasped in surprise, but that quickly gave way to a hysterical laugh. Ben muttered something behind him with exasperation, but Klaus couldn’t care less, laughter spilling past his lips the same way the ashes had fallen out of the urn.

... 

After Klaus' verbal abuse towards his father's urn, he returned to the kitchen and partook in a private dance session to the loud music Luther was playing throughout the house. He thought he'd danced pretty well, if he did say so himself. Ben, however, apparently thought otherwise if his smirk was anything to go by.

Oh, well.

It was as he was laying on the table that things started to go awry, as they were prone to do during a Hargreeves reunion. There had been a lot of arguing at Allison's wedding, between Klaus and the ghosts. He'd tried to get sober for so he could save up a cute outfit for the wedding, and while he had surprisingly managed to succeed, the wedding itself hadn't been so great for him.

He remembered a lot of arguing with the ghosts and then an exasperated Vanya taking him back to her place so he could calm down. He'd stolen her savings from some jar she thought she'd hidden well at the back of a cupboard, and took some of her anxiety meds. He left before she woke up.

Still, what was happening in the present was probably stranger than some junkie shouting at thin air in the middle of a afterparty.

Everything had gone dark. The lights were flickering and grey clouds were rolling in outside, followed by bright flashes of what he presumed was thunder.

Scrambling off the table, Klaus looked around in confusion, his brain struggling to keep up with the sudden change of events. One minute he'd been dancing, the next everything was dark and objects inside the house were rattling.

The urn suddenly flew towards him off the kitchen table and he barely managed to catch it in time before it hit the opposing wall. Following the urn, several sharp knives flew straight past him, missing him by itches, before i bedding themselves in the wall the urn had been heading towards.

His siblings ran past him and out of the house in a panic. Klaus blinked before Ben urged him to follow them.

Wanting to know what he was dealing with first, he leaned over the kitchen side and looked out of the window. He spotted a large, blue... something, in the air that his siblings were all staring at.

"What the..." he muttered to himself.

Then, he grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall and ran outside, the autumn leaves crunching beneath his bare feet as he ran towards the thing in the sky. He pressed the button on the extinguisher and aimed the nozzle at the black hole thingy, but it did nothing. Shrugging, he threw the entire fire extinguisher into the hole and watched with surprise as it disappeared from view.

"What the hell was that supposed to do?" Allison shouted over the noise.

"I don't know! Do you have any better ideas?" He retorted.

The black hole (that's what he's decided it was despite it not being black) crackled, sounding like electricity and something that resembled a face appeared on the other side. It looked like an old man, from where he was standing.

"Woah, woah," Luther pulled him back away from the black hole, "everyone get behind me."

"Yeah, get behind us," Diego said, trying to best Luther even in the dire situation.

"I vote for running!" Klaus shouted. "Come on!"

Even Ben looked like he wanted to run and he was dead. Nothing could hurt him. 

The man in the black hole seemed to be getting closer. His features were beginning to look familiar the closer he got to them, and then all of a sudden, the man (boy, Klaus hastily corrected himself) was on their side of the black hole rather than the other side. Said black hole disappeared from view and the boy wearing a suit fell from it, hitting the ground with a thud, as the weather cleared up and the sun showed itself.

The boy groaned and stumbled to his feet. He looked right at Klaus and the others, his expression unreadable. His face, though. That was unmistakable. It had been seared into Klaus' memory ever since he last saw it at the tender age of thirteen.

Before them, wearing a suit miles to big for him, and looking confused, was Number Five, looking the exact same way he had when he ran away. 

"Is it just me, or does anyone else see little Number Five?"

... 

And the next half an hour was filled with Five making himself a fluffer nutter, spouting words that made Klaus' brain hurt, and a lot of questions.

Apparently Five had gone to the future (which was shi) when he ran away seventeen years ago and had remained there for forty-odd years, making him fifty-eight. According to him, his consciousness was fifty-eight, but due to some equations, his body was now thirteen again. Klaus would have given anything to see a sixty year old Five.

Honestly, Klaus zoned out for most of Five's drivel about the future, but the second he picked up the newspaper, sandwich in hand, and began talking about Reggie, his mind decided it was a great time to focus again.

He was sure he probably looked even more guilty with the way he began fidgeting with the hem of his skirt to hide his shaking hands, and swallowed excessively to try and bring some moisture to his mouth. 

"Natural causes, eh?" Five mused.

"Yes," Diego said at the same time Luther gave a different answer.

"Nice to see nothing's changed," Five said and Klaus pretended not to notice the way Five's eyes lingered on him just before he swaggered to the exit of the room.

"What, is that it?" Allison asked to Five's retreating form.

"What else is there to say? Circle of life," Five called back, disappearing from view.

... 

An hour later, when they'd all gathered their wits and gotten over the inevitable shock of their missing brother's return, the Hargreeves siblings finally found the time to have the memorial. Unfortunately, it was now raining so Klaus had to find an umbrella to use lest his eyeliner run.

He managed to steal Allison's clear umbrella lined with pink at the bottom before she could use it. She merely rolled her eyes at him and chose one of the nine black umbrellas from the umbrella stand. Mom took his black umbrella as she didn't have one of her own, and they all exited the building to say their goodbyes to Reginald Hargreeves.

As expected, it didn't go well. 

Mom barely knew what was going on. 

Because of the weather, the ashes fell straight into a pile on the ground, at which Klaus barely contained his laughter, hiding it with a wince. 

Diego made some speech about how Reginald never loved them and couldn't be bothered to give them all real names, instead having Mom do it. 

Luther and Diego got into a fist fight that Klaus eagerly encouraged, having not had much entertainmemt in a goid while. It ended with Luther accidentally punching Ben's statue off its stand. The head fell off and Klaus would have been mad had he not known that Ben hated it anyway. Then, Diego threw one of his knives at Luther which resulted in Luther making a quick exit back inside.

At that, everyone took that as their cue to leave whilst Klaus stayed. When everyone had gone inside and he was left alone, he stood up from the bench he'd sat on and strolled over to the ashes on the ground.

He crouched down next to them and began his own goodbyes.

"I bet you're loving this, aren't you?" He asked coldly and stumped his joint out on the ashes. His father had always disapproved of his drug habit. "The team at its best. It's just like old times."

As he stood up, he made sure to 'accidentally' kick the ashes. He gave them one last glance before smirking and heading back inside.

"Best. Funeral. Ever."

... 

The next day was filled with nightmares induced by being back home and smashing snowglobes over his own head in order to get information for Five. Which he never got paid for, by the way. It was eventful, to say the least.

By the time evening rolled around, the sun beginning to set, Luther and Allison called a meeting. It sounded urgent and as much as Klaus wanted to go back to his childhood room and sleep for a thousand years, or find Mom and eat any baked goodies she'd made until he felt sick, he decided he might as well show his face.

He was back in some more comfortable clothes and had showered to get rid of the blood and glitter coating his forehead as he strolled through the house towards the lounge where he assumed his sibling were convening.

He was just about to enter the room, following the sounds of his siblings hushed arguing, when Ben's voice halted him. 

"Don't go in there," he warned and Klaus frowned, whirling around to see his brother's ghost.

"What?" He scoffed in reaponse.

"They know, Klaus," Ben urged, "they know you killed him."

"Wh-" and then it clicked. His siblings knew he'd killed their father. Shit. "Wh- how?"

"The tapes. You didn't wipe the CCTV footage. They have it now, in there."

"Shit," Klaus hissed, backing up.

His heart was thudding erratically in his chest, his hands were shaking again, and he could feel tears building up behind his eyes. He didn't know why. Maybe it was the guilt- but, no. He didn't feel guilty about what he'd done. Maybe it was simply the fact that he'd been caught. His siblings had stone cold evidence of his crime and now what? 

What the hell was he supposed to do now? He could run for it, but then the inevitable fact that they (Luther) would look for him made him falter.

His barefeet squeaked on the floor and his eyes widened. He span around, ready to make a break for it when footsteps approached and a heavy hand clamped down on his bony shoulder. He gasped and froze. He knew without a doubt that it was Luther whose hand was gripping his shoulder.

Schooling his features, he plasted on his usual ditzy Klaus-grin and turned around to face his brother's angry expression.

"Luther!" He chuckled nervously. "Hey, man. Can I help you?"

Luther didn't say anything, simply grabbed his upper arm and dragged him into the lounge where his siblings, true to Ben's word, were gathered around a small TV displaying some black and white footage.

Only Diego managed to meet his eyes as Luther led him into the room, and even then he looked confused. Still, he supposed that was better than Luther's angry scowl and his sisters' disappointed faces. 

Number One deposited him right in front of the TV and Klaus swallowed at the grainy image of himself stood beside Reginald’s bed whilst his father slept soundly, unaware of what was to follow. Looking at it, he thought he felt the slightest built of guilt. Maybe it was just the sight of the man, asleep, looking more human than he had all those years ago when he and his siblings had still lived at the Academy.

But then, with that thought came the memories of years of torment, neglect, and abuse. Of cold, terrifying nights spent alone in the mausoleum with only the dead as company whilst he screamed his throat raw and clawed at his own arms to remind himself of what was and wasn’t real. And then that tiny ball of guilt morphed into what he recognised as anger and hatred. Anger for all those years he and his siblings had to suffer in silence whilst the general public shoved cameras in their faces, under the façade that they all lived the perfect life of fame and fortune. Hatred for the man who had bought them before they’d even opened their eyes to face to cruel world they were being thrust unfairly into.

His fists clenched either side of him, his painted nails digging crescents into his tattooed palms. Jaw clenched, he lifted his gaze from the television to face Luther. He just managed to force a smile onto his face before Luther could look away from the screen himself and see Klaus’ snarl.

“Wow,” Klaus laughed breathily, “I, uh, I’m not sure what happened here. I don’t totally remember this; must’ve been a crazy night.”

“Let me remind you, then,” Luther grit out.

He pressed the play button on the VHS player, and the recording started again, playing right from the beginning.

It started with Klaus entering their dad’s room and dumping his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. Then they watched as he approached their father and waved a hand in front of his face, seeming to check if he was definitely asleep. When he looked satisfied, he grabbed one of the pillows and quick as a flash, placed it over Reginald’s face. Their father struggled for a good, long minute, but Klaus didn’t stop in his task until the old man finally stopped moving, dead.

The Klaus in the real world could feel the piercing gazes of his siblings, even Ben who had been there when he’d committed the crime, but he didn’t let that distract him from the recording of him killing their dad and then pocketing the monocle before leaving. It was one thing to act it all out, but somehow it felt different watching himself do it. Like he was dissociating, as if it wasn’t really him on screen holding the pillow over his own father’s face.

When he exited the room, Luther paused the recording and turned his full body to face Klaus. The latter forced himself to take a shaky breath, absently realised he wasn’t high enough to be dealing with this, and looked up at the man towering over him.

“Did that refresh your memory?” Luther asked coldly.

“You know, I think it did a bit,” Klaus shakily laughed.

Suddenly, Luther’s hand was around his throat and he was being backed up into one of the pillars. His siblings were shouting immediately, ordering Luther to let go of him, to calm down so they could talk rationally, but going by the look in his brother’s eyes, that wasn’t going to be a possibility any time soon.

Black spots began clouding his vision and Klaus blinked harshly to try and get rid of them, but they were persistent. He realised, then, that he was going to die. Killed by his own brother in revenge for the murder he himself had committed. Hah. What a way to go.

He wondered, distantly as the lack of oxygen made itself apparent and his lungs began to burn, if this time it would stick. Every overdose or suicide attempt (he’d been in some low places) in the past had never seemed to remain. Somehow, he would always wake up in the nick of time. He wasn’t sure why, but Ben seemed to think it had something to do with his powers- the whole seeing the dead thing. He though that maybe Klaus just couldn’t die. It was a ridiculous notion, Klaus believed, but sometimes he had to wonder if maybe his dead deceased brother was onto something.

“What the hell is going on here?” Five’s voice cut through the shouting, despite not having raised his voice.

Luther didn’t loosen his hold on Klaus, but the latter could just make out the blur of where his head should be as it turned to look at where Five probably was.

There was talking from there, but with the obvious fact that Klaus was still being strangled, it all sounded like he was underwater. Everything was muffled and his ears were fuzzy, he could barely see. He thought he might’ve heard Ben say something, right beside his head, but he could barely focus on his voice, let alone what his siblings were saying about him.

And then he was being dropped roughly on the floor. He hadn’t even realised his feet weren’t touching it. Luther must’ve lifted him up as he was strangling him.

He gulped in desperate breaths for air and blinked harshly to rid himself of the black spots clouding his vision. Everything was still a little bit blurry, but with the oxygen now flowing freely throughout his body and to his brain, his vision was slowly returning.

Someone grabbed him under the arms, and he flinched, thinking it was Luther come to finish him off, but looking to his left, he made out the form of Diego. Vanya was hovering just in his peripheral, over Diego’s shoulder like some concerned mother hen and he kind of appreciated it. For some reason, his siblings had always acted like that with him, as if he were something that needed protecting at all costs, despite him being perfectly capable of looking after himself. That didn’t mean he didn’t like it, though. No, it meant he got away with a lot more than he should’ve been able to and it proved that the others did love him in some way, no matter how little.

Still, that love all went down the drain as soon as they all left home. Apparently as soon as they were no longer at the Academy, that meant everyone had to stop caring about Klaus unless he forced himself into their lives like a hurricane. Suddenly no one cared that Klaus was homeless, sleeping on the streets in the harsh winters, or getting so fucked up at a stranger’s house that he couldn’t remember his own name let alone the events that thus transpired.

“Hey, Klaus, can you hear me?” Someone asked.

Klaus looked up, broken off from his train of self-depreciating thoughts, and spotted Five harshly snapping his fingers in front of his face. He blinked and leaned away.

“Yeah, can you, like, back off?” He asked and made shoo-ing gestures with his hands at his younger/ older brother.

Five rolled his eyes but complied anyway, backing up.

“Luther here tells me you killed the old man,” Five stated factually. It wasn’t a question. The evidence was on the tv right over on the table, and Klaus’ behaviour was facts enough.

Klaus shrugged, moodily bringing his feet to perch on the edge of the couch and resting his chin on his knees. His siblings could interrogate him all they wanted, but that didn’t mean he had to be complicit.

“I suppose,” he said.

“You suppose,” Luther snapped, “the evidence is right there, Klaus, you murdered him in his sleep!”

“To be fair, it wasn’t my original intention to off the old man.”

“Then what was your original intention? Why were you back at the Academy?” Vanya asked timidly.

“Oh, you know. Just looking for some trinkets to pawn,” he shrugged again, and took immense pleasure in the fact that his siblings looked resigned. Well, all except Luther who was beginning to resemble a tomato.

“Why?” Luther asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did you do it? Why now? Why kill him?”

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Klaus found himself shrugging again. Truth be told, he didn’t know why he’d done it. He just had. At the time, it had seemed like the best idea he’d ever had, but thinking back, it probably had been quite irrational. Not that he regretted it, of course. The only thing he regretted was getting caught. Which actually sounded a lot worse than he wanted it to, but it was true.

Luther stepped forward, clearly intending on more bodily harm, but Diego was on his feet in an instance, knife pointed threateningly at Number One. Even Five looked ready to step in should things get out of hand.

“Why did you do it?” Luther repeated his question, not even glancing at Diego.

Anger bubbled up in Klaus and his impassive glance turned into a glare aimed at Luther. Why didn’t he get it? When would he stop being perfect little Number One, dad’s favourite super-powered soldier, and start being Luther?

“Why?” Klaus retorted through clenched teeth. “Why did I kill him?”

And then he was on his feet, side stepping Diego to get to Luther who looked suitably startled at his sudden anger. And who could blame him? Klaus had rarely ever been angry at his siblings, could barely find it in himself to snap at Allison whenever she’d rumoured him in the past. So to find Klaus coming at you, angrier than he’d ever been before, it was quite an achievement.

“Because, Number One, he deserved it,” Klaus grit out, “he was a fucking monster who took pleasure in tormenting us. He created an environment filled with fear and stuck seven children in the middle of it! We were just kids and he pushed us to our limits with training no child should ever have to endure! He taught us that if we didn’t get what we wanted, we had to take it! Half of us had a body count by the age of fifteen! No one, let alone a child, should ever have a body count! Five ran away and got stuck in the future. Ben fucking_ died _because of him! He was a neglectful, abusive, _manipulative_ piece of crap and he got what had been coming for a long time.”

By the time Klaus was finished, his breaths were coming in fast and sharp. He had a finger pointed at Luther, and he let it fall limp at his side. His siblings looked shocked at his outburst, even Five was showing an expression other than disgust or superiority (in fact, he looked proud).

Shaking his head, Luther looked around at the others before marching out of the room and up the stairs, presumably to his room. His boots thudded with every step, each one a reminder that Klaus had successfully managed to give Luther a temper tantrum.

Silence reigned after Luther’s departure and Klaus couldn’t take it. He hated silence, especially if he’d caused it. Scoffing and seeing none of his siblings were about to break the silence, he made to follow in Luther’s footsteps and leave, but someone grabbed his arm.

He looked back to see Vanya was holding his elbow. He rose an eyebrow in question and his sister looked hesitant for a mere second before she engulfed him in a hug. He was shocked to say the least. Because she was much shorter than him, her head only just reached his chest, but he could feel the vibrations of her apologies. He didn’t know why she was apologising (wasn’t he the one who was supposed to be saying sorry?) but he returned the hug, nonetheless, reassuring her it was okay.

One by one, his other siblings joined the hug until they were in a stupid group hug in the middle of the lounge like they were in some cringey Disney movie, but it made his heart swell either way. Especially when Five, the grumpy old man in his thirteen-year-old body, who apparently had better things to do, squeezed himself underneath Allison and Diego’s arms to join the hug.

“This is so sweet,” Klaus mock sniffled.

“Klaus,” Allison sighed, pulling away.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr now, if you want to follow- @sweetiedxrling
> 
> also, please feel free to leave either a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed this because it makes me feel better about my work :) x
> 
> p.s. i'm bad at writing feelings other than like dark sh*t so if some of the dialogue is a bit rough, that's why. sorry.


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